


The Aftermath

by madeofdoom



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Gen, postgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofdoom/pseuds/madeofdoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angst fic set after the end of the game</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Death of an Heir

==> Be John  
Bang, a gunshot, no, a bomb. A bomb. Fuck. You run, you run but you’re running the wrong way. You feel a sharp pain in your shoulder, stomach, and chest. You look down. Shiny. Shiny metal. Sorta pretty if you think about it. You think back to that god forsaken game. Why did you even play it? For fun? It was fun at first, you suppose, when it was still a game. Before the death, the trauma, before it fucked you up so bad you couldn’t even smile when you saw your dad again. How many years has it been since you talked to him? 6, 7? Why did you even...what crossed your mind when you joined the army? No normal job could entertain you after the game? Not enough friends dead? Well, you didn’t really make any friends in the army, or back home, or anywhere really. Couldn’t find your old friends either, pesterchum seems to have ceased to exist. You think about Dave and Rose, Karkat and Jade and all the others as everything goes black. 

==> Be Dad  
You sit in front of the television, on your living room sofa, watching the news, 10am sharp. You hold a cup of coffee, black, one sugar, two shots of vodka. You sit emotionlessly though announcements of tsunamis, tornadoes, earthquakes all over the world. At the end there’s a small feature, not even a feature, a list. A few names scroll across the screan, deaths of US soldiers in a war somewhere you can’t be bothered to remember. Albert Barnes, Lennie Crowly, Riley Denver, John Egbert. You barely outwardly react to the name of your son. Outwardly being the operative word. You calmly set your coffee down, turn off the television and leave the room. You walk up to your room and open a safe. You take out a smallish pistol. The weight feels nice in your hand. You hold it to your head and pull the trigger. And fade to black.


	2. Time is self destroying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave's a famous model, constantly high, drunk, getting laid or any combination of all three. Bro hates it.

==>Be Dave  
You sit in one of your many regular clubs, at least six pills in your pocket and many more somewhere in your digestive system. You wink at a girl across the room. Long dark hair, looks a bit like Jade, other than her lack of muscle definition and overly styled hair. Judging by her reaction, she’s seen a couple of your ‘modelling campaigns’ a classy name for the pictures where you laze around half naked, with your red, vampiric eyes half lidded and an inviting smirk. While you were busy in your little game, vampires seemed to become an extremely popular fetish, making your slight, muscled, pale 18 year old body and striking eyes the perfect modelling material. The job pays well, although about 90% of the money you make you snort, drink or inject, and that’s not even including the pills. You take another shot, inviting not-Jade over. She sits down on your lap. An easy lay then, thank god. It takes less than ten minutes until you’re on your way back to your Park Avenue penthouse apartment. 

==>Be Bro  
You haven’t seen your lil bro for a good three months. Not since you both sort of...poofed back into the apartment, more specifically the roof. He was seventeen then...fuck, you missed 4 years of his life, arguably some of the most important. It’s no wonder he doesn’t talk to you anymore, other than the hour long lunch three months ago, when he was obviously on a meth crash. You’d gotten pissed, and why not? You’d spent the first 13 years of his life trying to be there for him, teach him right from wrong, then he gets rich and throws it away? Of course. You decide to call him anyway, he’s your baby boy after all. You call. No answer. Fuck that. You hope he’s okay though. Go to your computer, find a near abandoned program. A little cam you installed in the stupid earring he likes to wear. You know he ain’t changed it since he was 13, some sentimental reason, you hope. The camera instantly shows some girl bouncing on his dick. Of fucking course. Fuck this. Kid’s dead to you.


	3. Lights out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ugh this is awful took the span of about two songs so yeah

== > Be Rose  
You’re passed out on the sofa, it’s been a year since the end of the game and you are so beautifully not coping. By which, of course, you mean that you have taken up your mother’s old vice. Infact, you may even have taken it further. At least she functioned as a mother and member of society. You, conversely, spend an awful lot of time passed out in various areas of your house. It’s almost become a game, your mother trying to find where you could possibly have gotten to now. Ha. Quite ironic really. She misses the most important years of your life, and you still end up as her carbon copy. Perhaps a less elegant version. A coal copy rather than a diamond one. Look! There you are using your middle school chemistry to make cute puns. At least you retained a small amount of knowledge.  
== > Be Mom  
You look a lot worse for wear than you did those few years ago. Bags under your eyes, very little makeup, your formerly styled hair hangs flat, your roots showing and it’s grown to about your shoulders. You’re a mess. It’s like having a baby again. Only worse. This time there’s no pleasure in taking care of your child. No promise of reprise in a couple of years. You’ve lost contact with your childhood best friend, one Bro Strider, as well as a man you once believed to be your true love. You heard about his son’s death recently. Shitty little obituaries segment at the end of the news. In all honesty, you want to run away. The only thing keeping you here is caring for Rose, and you’re not sure you can do that much longer.


	4. Ding dong the witch is dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God this is so shitty it took like 5 minutes ugh well at least i finished the series eh

== > Be Jade  
You put down the phone. You have just finished calling the Lalonde house. You didn’t talk to Rose. Her mom answered. She sounded tired. She did mention that Rose was living with her however. Must be looking after the poor old woman. You sigh, sort of wishing you had someone or something to look after. No Bec. Your plants have predictably died. And, as an 18 year old, mentally unstable, island-dweller turned illegal immigrant, you’re hardly eligible to adopt.   
You heard about John recently. He joined the army. You guess the game made him stronger. Figures. You had to be the weak one, huh. Rose is looking after her mom, John’s back to being a hero…and you know all about Dave. Maybe a little too much. The eyes he so obviously hated have become one of his biggest assets, as well as the scars he should be way more (metaphorically) torn up about. Well, he’s a rich, famous playboy of a man now. You’d honestly thought the two of you could have had a future. Guess that’s fucked, huh?   
Maybe you could just…end it? Wouldn’t be too hard. The town you moved too, while small, has a nice big river. You find yourself starting the short journey, still lost in the thoughts of your much stronger friends. You barely even notice yourself calmly stepping off the big old bridge.   
You just let yourself sink.


End file.
